


Amarillo Sky

by sickbed_00



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1930s, Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Baby, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Armitage Hux, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickbed_00/pseuds/sickbed_00
Summary: Kylux Alpha/Omega hisorical fic#963 Amarillo Texas, 1935. Hux and Ren are farm hands on a large ranch. Despite their best efforts, Hux is with child now and their simple lives have been turned upside down. Story weaves in and out about how they met, where they're going and their new lives as parents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I live in Texas, a big city in Texas, and I still hear this stupid song everywhere. 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy.

_Amarillo, Texas_

_1934_

Ren pulled the percolator from the stove top and filled his little tin cup with a dent in the side. He could not remember why it was he let his temper get the best of him and he threw the innocent item across the one room shack provided to him. It was probably over something silly; it was always over something silly.

The coffee was hot and strong, but Ren was not sure it would be enough to get him through another long day. Fourteen-hour shifts, working the gears in the run-down tractor, tossing hale bale after hay bale into the trucks. At night he would come home with just enough energy to shovel down a hearty meal and shower off the sweat and the filth of the day. He would collapse bone-weary into his big, wool stuffed bed and sleep the hard sleep of a farm hand before rising with the sun to start it all again.

Unless, of course, Armitage Hux got a hold of him.

“Are you going to eat something?” Ren felt strong arms grip his shoulders and give them a squeeze. He shuddered with pleasure as they began to work their way down his arms, kneading his sore muscles beneath his flannel shirt.

“I’m not hungry,” Ren said, his voice slow and weary.

He felt Hux’s nose run around the outer shell of his ear.

“I certainly worked up an appetite from last night…” Ren set down his cup and turned. He found himself being held in Hux’s arms, wanting to just melt into them.

“And I thought you were relentless before,” Ren moved an open palm into the small opening of Hux’s robe. There, he could feel the small swell of his belly. “Will it be like this with every child?”

“Greedy,” Hux scolded, pulling away, “you are lucky I agreed to this one.”

Ren knew he was. They were poor farm hands, scrapping every penny they could just to get by. Holding on to the dream that some day they might have a few acres of their own. Hux would always say ‘maybe’ to children; maybe, maybe, when things are better. When they didn’t have to work so much.

When a heat came, Ren would leave and stay with one of the other workers. They could not afford suppressants. It was bad enough they lost half their meager income keeping Hux at home as it was too dangerous to allow him to sweat out his scent in the field.

“Sun’s almost risen, you ought to get going,” said Hux. Ren leaned in a place a chaste kiss on his mate’s lips.

“I miss working with you,” he whispered.

His last heat came over a long, cold winter. Work was limited and the men found themselves with too much time on their hands. Heavy rains and hail kept them penned up together. Ren had always leaned on Hux to be the disciplined one; with money, food and their relations, but by January the hardened red-head had been completely worn down.

Hux would pant and wail, begging or relief. With Ren in such close quarters, unable to escape the overwhelming scent of his musk, Hux was constantly hot and pink and miserably slick. When Hux threatened to run out in a particularly violent hail storm, one so bad it threatened to tear their tin roof apart, Ren finally bedded his mate.

“I have work of my own here, there’s no end to your filthy shirts.” Hux’s words and knitted brow were in jest, but it still spurred a twinge of pain in Ren’s heart. He loved that his mate was carrying his child, some days it was the only thing that kept him pushing through the pain of field work. But Hux was so much more than a house wife. He was the strongest, most resilient person Ren had ever known. Even the other workers on the ranch regarded him with the upmost respect, despite him being both an Omega and a foreigner.

“Don’t work too hard,” Ren said, giving Hux’s belly another rub before heading out the door.

The day was bad as any. Thick clouds of red dust rose and choked the sky. The heat was unbearable, but Ren pushed on. He was a father now, and he and Hux would need a place of their own. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could go to California and buy a few acres near the ocean. It did not rain so much in California, and rain was the greatest bone of contention Hux had with his homeland; England.

Ren returned home to his shirts waving to him from the clothesline.

Inside, he found Hux was dressed in one of his own white button ups. At only four months, he could no longer properly tuck his tops in, his condition was now quite apparent.

“Dinner smells good,” Ren said.

“Glad you think so.”

He watched as Hux thoughtfully set their table, putting down plates and cups and brushing his hair behind his ears each time his head dipped to scrutinize his work.

“Pay day is tomorrow,” said Ren, “a few of the guys asked if we’d want to go into town with them to pick up some supplies. I thought maybe we could look for a few things for the baby.”

Hux paused his work and slowly looked up.

“I went up to Snoke’s house after you left.”

“What? Not,” Ren felt breathless at hearing the name of the cantankerous land owner, “not like that. We decided we weren’t going to tell him…not until-”

“He’s purchased six new mares, all for the purpose of breeding. I made an offer to buy one of the foals.”

“We can’t afford that.”

“What choice do we have?” Hux asked. “Ren, we have five months to start putting a life together. There is no time left to just sit and talk about what we want.”

“I just wish you had spoken to me about it beforehand.”

“You would have said no.” Ren sighed and scratched at the thick stubble on his cheek.

“Well…still, it’s both our money.”

“Trust me.”

Ren did trust him. One look into Hux’s cool blue-green eyes and he knew whatever Hux had decided would be best for them both.

Well, them three, really…

“Did he say anything about you being with child,” Ren asked. Hux smiled.

“Only that he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.”

They ate their dinner and Ren went out back to shower. Hux collected his clothes from the line. It was their new routine.

 “I’m going to have to learn how to mend,” Hux said, showing Ren the finger that could fit through the hole in his shirt.

“Let me help-”

“I worked those fields, I know how tired and sore they can make a man. Go lie down, Ren. I can handle a few shirts.”

Ren did not remember anything after that. He woke up feeling guilty with Hux curled up beside him. Those moments before sleep took him were the only time they were truly together, uninhibited by the difficulty of their small lives.

Eventually Hux stirred, his gold eyelashes fluttering in the light of the breaking dawn. Ren wondered if their child would have Hux’s fine features or be dark and hard like him.

“Morning,” Hux greeted dreamily. Ren kissed his nose.

“Morning.”

And they began again.

Some mornings Hux would wake up sick and Ren was forced to leave him bent over a small bucket. It killed him to do so, even as Hux assured him everything was fine. Ren would be moody and snap at his fellow workers. Mostly they were understanding, though many of them did not have a mate of their own. This just compounded Ren’s guilt and made his question what sort of father he was going to be.

“I could go back to my father’s rodeo,” he said one night over dinner. Hux was now at six months. The mares were roaming in Snoke’s private pen with the stud.

“No,” Hux said firmly, helping himself to another hearty ladle from the pot of pinto beans.

“It was good money, better than this anyway.”

“Too dangerous.” Ren had come to learn that the less words Hux used, the more concerned he was. It was not the nature of the work; Ren was a champion barrel racer. Rarely did he ever engage of bull riding, which was easily the most perilous of events.

Ren’s family did not approve of Hux. A poor immigrant, a bastard by his own admission.

“Mother will be more accepting now that you’re carrying my child.”

“Are you really so naive?”

“I am her only son, which means this baby is her only hope for grandchildren.” Hux did not respond. “We can get married.”

Hux set down his silverware.

“All of our savings went to buy a horse, what little else we can get will be for the baby-”

“Then I will go back to the rodeo. In a year we could have enough saved for a wedding and a home,” Ren paused, angling his head in a failed attempt the draw Hux’s attention, “another child.”

“It will never work.”

They finished dinner in silence.

That night as they laid in the, Ren felt a warm whisper fill his ear.

“Come here.”

Ren turned and Hux took his hand and guided it to his belly. “You feel that?”

Ren gasped as he felt a firm push back against the palm of his hand. And then another, and another…

“He’s so strong, or,” he smiled, “she, I guess. What do you think?” Hux shrugged.

“I haven’t thought about it. I don’t really care either way.”

“Me neither. We should think of names though.”

“I like Alice for a girl.”

“Alice is nice. And what if we have a boy?”

“Theodore, Theo for short.”

“Little Alice or Theo,” Ren rubbed his belly. “I can’t wait to meet you, whichever you are.”

“You need to be here when they come,” Hux eyes flitted up to meet Ren’s. “I have tried my best not to complicate our lives further, and I know working for Snoke is rough…”

Ren placed a small kiss in Hux’s hair.

“No rodeo,” he said, “we’ll make it work here.” Beneath the pops ad cracks of their shack settling, Ren could hear a few soft sniffling noises. “Everything’s going to be okay, as long as we stay together.”

“You and me against the word,” Hux’s voice broke, “what a way to start a family.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me neither.”

The weight of the day became too much, and sleep pulled them away.

The sun rose the next day, just as it always had. Ren had his coffee, Hux came up behind him and rubbed his muscles. Another long shift, the other workers asking about how the Englishman was and how soon it would be until the baby came. Ren came home to his shirt waving to him. He smiled, noting how well mended they looked.

A dinner of beans and pork belly.

A shower.

Long conversations about their future as Ren moved his hand around Hux’s very active belly.

Come spring though their routine would change, and Ren would return to their humble home to see Hux stepping out under the clear Amarillo sky, little Theo in his arms. In the small pen behind their house, a dapple foal named Falcon trotted along on his spindly legs.

They still talked about California.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write a second chapter...
> 
> But ya'll got me with the 'I hope they make it to California' comments. My profile may say Dallas, but I'm a Cali-Folk, born and raised on the coast. Besides, I do love this universe. I love all the universes. I love you guys for giving me a reason to explore them. Thanks for all the comments, kudos and suggestions!
> 
> (Also, if Hux seems OOC in this, feel free to tell me. I obviously liked the direction, but I always want to stay as true to the characters as possible, thanks).

_Salinas Valley, California_

_1937_

Ren drew in the deep scent of eucalyptus and blue sage.

The freshness of the California air was a marvel that he felt he would never tire of. Long gone was the red dust clogging his nostrils and irritating his lungs. The wide sky was only dotted with a few drifting clouds, but the sun did not feel as cruel and relentless as it had back in Texas. Warmth simply flowed down in gentle waves, leaving Ren feeling sleepy and at ease.

For a moment, Ren closed his eyes and basked in the simple pleasure of it all.  

“Look Teddy! Do you see the rabbit?” Ren opened his eyes, turning to see his mate Armitage Hux with their child on his hip, pointing to some motion in the low brush. “See his ears? They look like papa’s big ears, hm?” Hux looked up the meet Ren’s gaze from under his wide brimmed Stetson. A sly smile curled his lips.

It was nice to see Hux dressed like a rancher again; a high buttoned work shirt with jeans tucked into black, pointed boots. There had been some physical struggles in the weeks following Teddy’s birth. Hux was absolutely drained of energy and, though he refused to admit it, was clearly in a great deal of pain. From time to time Hux would also become quiet and slightly disconnected. Ren chalked it up to his mate just adjusting to his new life as a mother. Hux had always been so spirited, so passionate about everything in life. He never spoke in small terms. Three months into the pregnancy, Hux had boldly marched up to Snoke’s house and demanded an audience and a fair price on a horse.

Being at the beck and call of a tiny creature that only wanted to gum mindlessly away at his teat was a huge shift. His great, sweeping visions were now refocused onto one single human.

Everything came to a head one stormy night. The fields had been rained out and Ren had not worked the whole week. Which meant he had not been paid for a whole week. Teddy, a mere four months old, was colicky and kept his parents up with his inconsolable crying. Because of this he would not latch to feed, no matter how much Hux tried. No matter how much he begged.

Ren would never forget the noise his mate made. As sudden as the Texas thunder, Hux let out a horrible wail and curled his body over the screaming Teddy. Ren ran to his side and tried to get his arms around Hux, but the man just arched away, limbs stiff. Instead, Ren just took his son and held him against his chest while he watched Hux cry himself into exhaustion.

It was agonizing. Not even in the rodeo, when he’d been bucked from a bull and could see its horns aimed right for his fallen form had Ren felt such fear and helplessness. The two people most precious in the world to him were suffering, and there was nothing he could do.

Teddy tired first. He was too small and too weak to carry on. Ren tucked him into his bassinette and kissed his damp hair. Hux was still sobbing in his rocking chair. Slowly, tenderly, Ren approached him and put one arm under Hux’s knee and the other around his back and carried him to their bed.

They laid intertwined for a long while, listening to the pattern of rain and Teddy’s little snuffles. Ren waited until Hux’s breathing calmed completely before he asked, “Are you all right?”

Hux shook his head.

“I’m a wretched mother.”

Ren did not know what to say. Early on, when Hux had been so exhausted, he still made every effort to sing-to and cuddle and play with his new baby. He had even hand-washed Teddy’s little nappies everyday to make sure he always had a fresh set.

“How can you say that?”

“The way he cries when I hold him now,” Hux said in a small voice, “it’s like…he knows how horrid I am…”

“He’s just a baby, Hux. And babies cry.” Ren put a small kiss on his mate’s head, just as he had done for his son, “You’re not horrid.”

“I am,” Hux’s voice broke a bit, “you know, I’ve done things…I’ve hurt people.” He buried his face in Ren’s chest, “I don’t deserve to be a mum.”

“We both have a past,” Ren said into Hux’s hair. “But we also both have a future. You’ve fought too hard to give up now, Hux. Fought hard for me, fought hard for Teddy. Stars, you fought for Falcon too! You’ve fought for this family, don’t let who you were before sabotage the man,” Ren smiled, “and mother you’re destined to be.”

Things changed after that night. They began to talk about California again, about having a little ranch of their own.

Ten months later, they were standing on seventy-six acres south of the Salinas Valley.

Ren felt a prickle of panic when he saw his son’s curly black locks bouncing in the sun as Hux jostled him on his hip.

“Where’s Teddy’s hat?” He strode across the field, the dry grasses crunching under his feet.

“He kept pulling is off,” Hux said calmly, “I just put it back in the truck.”

“Hey Teddy boy,” Ren cooed as he approached his mate and fourteen-month-old son. Theodore James had his hair, had his eyes, but his chubby little cheeks were all Hux. Though they had only been out in the field for an hour, Teddy’s face was pink and thoroughly freckled, though that act did not seem to bother the boy. Teddy squealed with delight when he saw his father approach.

“I just don’t want him to burn,” Ren lifted a wide palm to shade the toddler’s face.

“He won’t,” Hux said, again in that voice that remined Ren of his mother. It was a mother’s voice; kind and knowing. One that could not be questioned. “He just needs a little base tan is all.” He looked up to Ren. “Let’s go out to the beach tomorrow. The owners said the bank will take all week to process our check and it’s not like there’s much to do here while we wait.”

“What about Falcon?” Ren looked over to where his truck was parked, the big metal horse trailer hitched to the back. “It’ll cost us twenty-bucks to pen him for the week.”

“So pen him,” Hux shrugged, “with all the money we’ve spent, and plan to spend – which reminds me, have you priced out a fence yet?”

“Not yet.” Hux sighed. “I figured I’d wait on the check!”

“Fair enough. Honestly though, I’m sure we could find someone in Monterrey. And someone who might be able to build us a larger stable; we are definitely going to need more than eight stalls.”

“Will we now?” Ren asked in an incredulous laugh.

“Doubt me?” But Ren did not. “Come on, we’ll get Falcon penned and find a nice little place in Monterrey for the week, right on the beach.” Hux pulled Teddy in close, “I want to build sandcastles with my little prince.”

“Mama, mama,” Teddy babbled as he wrapped his arms around Hux’s neck.

“He’s probably ready for a nap,” Hux said, rubbing his baby’s back.

“Then I guess we’re off to Monterrey,” Ren put his arm around Hux’s shoulder as they walked back to the truck, “off to build sandcastles…”


	3. Chapter 3

_Amarillo, Texas_

_1932_

Some nights, eight seconds could feel like eight hours.

Ren held tight to the saddle horn with his right hand, the left raised high above his head in a near futile attempt to keep his balance on the bucking bull. The sound of the announcer and the cheering crowd was just a loud buzz in his ear. The weight of his father’s eyes from the stands was heavy on his back.

There was some skill in bull riding. Not enough to carry a man over the prized eight seconds, not enough for him to gauge when the next buck would be his last. One moment, Ren was up, the next he was face down in the dirt, a swarm of rodeo clowns rushing in to distract the bull from his supine form.

Ren had learned how to push down the pain and draw on his adrenaline to rush out of the arena and hoist his broken body over the fencing. The loud whooping and applause told him he had done well, the shifting tiles on the scoreboard told him he had taken the lead: eight seconds.

Scanning the stadium, Ren caught his father’s gaze. Han gave him a small nod. Ren felt a little bit of pride bloom inside him.

When he received his prize though, two-hundred and fifty dollars and a belt buckle, Ren bleakly wondered if maybe his life was worth a bit more.

“There’s more where that came from!” Han told him with a hearty slap on the back. “Wait until we get to Dallas, that’s when the real money comes in.”

Later in the evening, Ren went with some of the other riders and the clowns up to a small no-name bar that played honky-tonk on the jukebox. Everyone wanted to buy him a beer and, despite his winnings, Ren was happy to take them up on their offers.

“Amarillo’s got ‘bout the prettiest bull chasers I’ve ever seen,” one of the barrel riders drinking with Ren said with a whistle. Ren followed his gaze through the low light of the bar where the jukebox sat. There he a saw a tight group of young men and women watching the dance floor with great interest.

“Bull chasers?” Ren asked.

“Ya know, _bull chasers_ ,” the barrel rider said with more emphasis, as if trying to break through the drunken fog surrounding Ren’s brain. “Local tramps who hang around the rodeos lookin’ to hustle a dollar or two.”

“You mean prostitutes?” Ren barked a small laugh.

“Sure, if you wanna call ‘em that.”

Han was not the type to be shy about the seedy underside of the rodeo life. There was drinking, there were drugs, and there were more hookers than one man would know what to do with.

“I don’t care what you do with your money; as long as you come into work and do your job right, I won’t breathe a word to your mother.”

Ren had never thought to indulge in anything more than a beer or two after a show. He had never needed more than that. The nights with a bottle of Vaseline and the torn men’s under and swim wear pages from a Sears-Roebuck catalogue had been serviceable, though dull. The other riders and ropers who brought a “bull chaser” back to their room often woke to find themselves a watch or buckle or piece of jewelry short.

Besides, it was not as though Ren had enjoyed regular company back home with his mother in Boston. The stationary life had been as lonely as life on the road.

“I think that one there sweet on you,” the barrel rider gave Ren a shove in his shoulder, waking him from his daze. Without a second thought, Ren looked back over to the corner to see only one man was standing by the jukebox, the blue glow of a neon beer sign making a harsh relief of his straight, narrow nose and high cheekbones. He was fierce and beautiful, like a tiger in the wild. Ren felt somewhat terrified to be caught in his stare.

“Good luck, Ren-boy,” the barrel rider took his beer and left. The moment he was gone, the lone man began the long walk across the bar, his eyes never wavering from Ren. His dress certainly made him stand out; a black shirt with white piping and pearl snap buttons that kept catching the light from the dancefloor. He was absolutely poured into his dark denim jeans. Ren felt himself blush as he began to wonder how hard it would be to peel them off the man’s legs.

When the man reached the bar, he casually placed his black Stetson down beside Ren. His fiery red hair was neatly parted at the side, as if he had not been wearing a hat in the hot, stuffy bar all night.

“What’ll it be, McGreggor?” The bartender asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” Ren nearly gasped at the man’s melodious Irish accent.

“Empire Whiskey?” The bartender asked, reaching for the red-label bottle on the top shelf.

“Yes sir.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“No need,” Ren said quickly, putting ten dollars on the bar top. “Keep the rest.” The bartender nodded as he placed the drink down and walked away.

“Thank you,” the man called ‘McGreggor’ said coolly.

“None of my friends have let me buy a beer tonight, figured it wouldn’t hurt to pass it along. Besides,” Ren swallowed hard, his mouth feeling dry, “I hate to see and good lookin’ man pay for his drink.”

“I like the way you think,” McGreggor smiled as he took a sip of his whiskey. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Ren,” Ren hesitated on his last name, his father’s name. The name painted all over the rodeo trucks.  

“Ren,” McGreggor repeated, “pleasure to meet you.”

They talked a little; what about, Ren would have forgotten by morning. He gleaned that McGreggor was intelligent, well-traveled. Someone in his past had put money into an education for him. Ren desperately wanted to ask him where he was from, why he was here and what drove him to his line of work but found for all his dangerous antics in the rodeo, he barely had enough of a spine to question a pretty face.

The music on the jukebox slowed. A crooning plea for a lover’s return began to accompany it. Out of the corner of his eye, Ren could see all the patrons on the dancefloor begin to pair up.

“You like to do dance?” Ren asked and immediately regretted it as he saw McGreggor wrinkle up his nose.

“Do you?”

“I never learned,” Ren shrugged, “never mind, I don’t-” McGreggor’s hand slipped over his.

“Want me to show you?”

McGreggor led Ren through the swaying couples to the center of the dance floor.

“Now, put your hand on my hip,” he said as he guided Ren to do as instructed, “just let it rest there. And I’ll do this,” he snaked his hand around to Ren’s back.

“And then I hold your hand?” Ren took McGreggor’s hand and held it up and out, mimicking the dancers around them. “Like this?”

“Exactly.”

“Now what?”

McGreggor began to move his hips, leading Ren to move into a small circle.

The world fell away, just like it did when he was on the back of a bull. The music was just noise and time stood still. Ren kept his eyes focused on McGreggor’s. They reminded him of the rainy skies back in Boston, those long spring showers that gave way to muggy summers.

McGreggor closed the little gap between them as he leaned over to whisper in Ren’s ear.

“You have a motel room?”

“Yeah…”

“You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah…”

 

* * *

 

_Monterrey, California_

_1937_

“He is absolutely exhausted,” Ren looked up from the bank paperwork to see Hux coming out of the hotel bathroom, Teddy wrapped up in a little towel in his arms.

“Here,” Ren stood, putting the paper aside, “let me take him for you.”

“Thank you.”

Teddy was a different child from the one he had seen that day. He had taken to the beach like a bird to the sky, happily digging in the sands and splashing in the waves. His castle building skills were unparalleled. Now, he was just a little lump in a towel, slouching over to rest on his father’s chest.

As Hux got undressed, Ren laid their son down on the bed and got him diapered and put in his pajamas. Not once did his little eyes flutter open.

“I have never seen him like this,” Ren marveled.

“Then don’t talk so loud,” said Hux, “if he stays asleep, I don’t have to nurse him.”

The hotel they had chosen to stay in did not provide a crib, but Ren had gotten quite skilled at making a snug little nest of pillows in the middle of their bed. Gently did he lay Teddy down in the little seam where the pillows met and watched him lazily try and pull his thumb up to his mouth.

“I left all the seashells he collected in the bathroom so, be careful if you go in there,” Ren felt Hux come up behind him and rub his shoulders, just like he used to back in Amarillo.

“Where? In the tub?”

“They were covered in sand,” Hux sighed, “everything is covered in sand.”

“He’s going to want to back out there tomorrow.”

“I know, trust me; I know.”

“We should just quit the farm business and open a seashell stand…Hey, Hux?” Ren turned to see Hux dressed in his long sleep shirt.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the night we met?” At this question, Hux’s eyes went wide.

“Why are you asking about that?”

“Do you remember what song we danced to?” Asked Ren.

“I don’t think so,” Hux shook his head, “we danced?”

“Yeah, you taught me, remember?” Hux’s horrified expression began to soften.

“I forgot about that…”

Ren put his hand on Hux’s hip and took up his hand.

“I just wish I could remember the song.”

“I don’t think it matters,” like before, Hux got his hand on Ren’s back and began to guide him. There was no music but there was laughter as they danced in their little hotel room, Teddy snoozing on the bed.

It really didn’t matter.


	4. Chapter 4

_Amarillo, Texas 1932_

 

Ren and McGreggor walked side by side through the balmy night, under the neon glow of the ‘Twin Suns Motel’ sign that offered no vacancies. Han had bought up all twelve rooms for his crew for the weekend, the horse trailers with their dusty signs promoting all the attractions the rodeo offered were neatly lined up in the parking lot. The black eyes of the animals watched as the two men strode past.

The motel was mostly quiet, and Ren was eternally grateful for that. He could not stand the idea of his fellow riders watching him walk back to his room with an obvious prostitute, knowing that they were holding their tongues until they could all properly raze him over breakfast at the diner. Ren had seen them do it a hundred times before with the other men, being Han’s son certainly would not make him immune.

“Room twelve, all the way on the end,” McGreggor observed out loud. Ren was not certain if it was meant to be insulting.

“Yeah,” was all he could think of the say.

Room twelve was fairly standard, as far as middle-of-nowhere motel rooms went. The curtains were a bit dirty, but the sheets were fresh and smelled like detergent. There was a painting above the bed of a desert panorama with a sunset. It was pretty, Ren liked it very much.

 Ren gestured to a hook on the wall near the door, “You can hang your hat up, if you like.” McGreggor gave him a small nod and settled his hat on the wall.

“Mind if I have a cigarette?” He then asked, already pulling a carton of Lucky Strikes from his front pocket.

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Ren watched as McGreggor sat down on the edge of the bed and lit his cigarette. After a few satisfying drags, he crossed one leg over the other and wedged off the boot there, then did the same with the other. He was so calm, as if he were in his own home.

“You like working for the rodeo?” He asked, half-heartedly.

“It’s nice traveling around, seeing new places,” Ren said, “that’s about it.”

“What are you; a roper, barrel racer?”

“Bull rider.”

McGreggor made a small chuckle.

“Me too.” Ren felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. “So,” McGreggor stood, speaking out of the side of his mouth as his clenched down on the cigarette, “what are we doing?” He began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Ren stared, mouth gaped, as McGreggor’s fingers deftly moved their way down his shirt, revealing more and more of his pink-white skin. McGreggor was lean and firm, but not overly muscular. Ren was overwhelmed with the desire to bite into his taut flesh, like it was a freshly picked fruit. Wordlessly, he approached the now shirtless McGreggor and reached out a trembling hand, drawing his fingers across the small patch of red hair on McGreggor’s chest. He had two-hundred dollars to do whatever he wanted to that body…

“Don’t be afraid,” McGreggor placed a hand over Ren’s, pressed it down on his chest and moved it down his flank and across his lower belly.

“Can I kiss you?” For a moment, McGreggor’s expression crumbled into one of confusion and pity. But with a playful laugh he collected the pieces up again, putting them perfectly back into place.

“Ren, I can’t-”

“I have two-hundred dollars,” Ren said quickly and McGreggor’s eyes became wide.

“You would pay me,” he blinked slowly and licked his lips, “two-hundred dollars for a kiss?”

“Is that not…,” Ren suddenly realized how pathetic he sounded. “Dammit,” he pulled his hands away from McGreggor’s perfect body and ran them through his hair. “Shit!”

“Calm down; why are you so upset?”

Ren felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

Gentle hands that eased away his troubles.

McGreggor’s warm breath on the back of his neck.

“It was a stupid question.”

A silence followed, somewhere out in the parking lot a horse whinnied into the night and rattled its trailer.

“I’ll kiss you,” McGreggor said quietly, pulling his hands away from Ren’s shoulders, “for two-hundred dollars, I’ll kiss you.”

“Do I get anything else?” Ren asked tentatively. His response came in the cocking of a gun. “What-”

“You get to keep your life.”

Ren turned to see McGreggor holding a small, one-shot pistol. It looked almost comical in his large hands, but Ren knew if the red head hit the right spot, the sight would be the last he would ever see.

“You were going to rob me this whole time?” He asked.

“Don’t act surprised, Ren Solo.”

So, he knew. Of course, he knew.

“I’m not,” Ren said quietly, “not really.”

McGreggor put the gun away.

“You seem like a man of your word; go ahead and show me the money and I’ll give you your kiss.” Ren opened the top drawer of the dresser and fanned it all out. McGreggor’s blue eyes scanned the bills, his lips moving soundlessly as he counted them up.

“Put it down there on the bed,” he instructed, and Ren complied without hesitation.

“I’m going to kiss you modestly,” McGreggor said, still using the same unquestionable tone, “do not expect anything vulgar.”

Ren nodded.

McGreggor’s expression softened, putting on what Ren could only assume was the mask he wore when her was about to perform. His eyes became distant and hooded, bottom lip detaching from the top. Ren hated it, but he could see why other men might like the expression. It made McGreggor look dumb, agreeable. That was what most Alphas liked in an Omega.

The act was complete with the chaste kiss, the kind Ren remembered giving to boys in school when they thought no one was looking. Curious and exciting, with just a slight element of danger. It was the sort of kiss he never imagined he would experience again as a grown man. What hurt most was how loved it made him feel. McGreggor’s gentle lips made Ren feel like something that needed to be cared for, treasured.

And then he pulled away.

“Satisfied?” Ren nodded stupidly. But as McGreggor began to turn to pick up his money, he suddenly shouted, “no; wait!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Your name, I want to know your real name.” McGreggor considered this question for a moment.

“Armitage Hux,” he said softly.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I!” Hux shouted, “Armitage William Hux; it’s a bloody awful name, I know! But it’s mine and I’ll thank you not to judge!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t,” Ren sighed, “what I want to know is, if I come back here, back to Amarillo; who should I ask for?”

“Ren,” Hux reached out and put a hand on Ren’s scruffy cheek, “you are a naïve fool who, if he does not learn the value of a kiss, is going to find himself in a lot more trouble.” He pulled his hand away, leaving Ren feeling cold and sad. “Good night, Ren Solo. And safe travels.”

 

* * *

 

_Salinas Valley, California 1937_

 

Ren woke with a little rush of panic. The bed was empty, save for himself, with the morning sun pouring over the empty pillow-crib he had made for Teddy the night before.

“Easy, Ren,” a soft voice assured him. Ren looked across the hotel room to see Hux sitting in the cheaply veneered chairs beside the window. Teddy laid across his lap and Ren could hear the noisy snuffles of him nursing.

“I didn’t notice you get up,” Ren said, brushing some of his hair from his face, “you been awake long?”

“About an hour,” Hux said just as Teddy began to fuss. “Yes, that’s papa,” he assured the squirming toddler, “and we thought he was going to sleep the whole day away…”

Teddy would be sure there was no sleeping. Once he finished nursing and Ren and Hux got dressed and ready to head down to the drug store for breakfast, Teddy brought out his shovel and pail from the day before and began to bang the two together.

“Beesh, beesh!” He commanded with laughter.

 “All right, we know,” Ren pulled him up into his arms, “you wanna head back down to the beach.”

“Beesh!” Teddy cheered, raising his shovel.

“Looks like it’s breakfast to go,” Hux sighed.

“You want to have a breakfast picnic at the beach?” Ren asked warily, “weren’t you just complaining last night about all that sand?”

“Just get me a cup of coffee; I can deal with everything, sand or otherwise, once I get a cup of coffee.”

“Beesh!” Teddy cheered again, banging the shovel on the pail once more. Two solid slaps was all he got before Hux removed them from his tiny grip.

“Mummy needs coffee,” Hux smiled at his son, using the most sickly saccharine voice Ren had ever heard come from the man’s lips, “and after that, you can make all the noise you want!”

At this Teddy laughed and reached out to grab his mother’s face and awkward kiss it.


End file.
